


Concubine

by eryth_sea



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, F/M, Forced Marriage, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, One-Sided Attraction, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2018-11-20 05:58:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11329941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eryth_sea/pseuds/eryth_sea
Summary: Liprica had her simple life worked out for her; she would spend her days praying to the earth mother and helping the needy, never in want of anything. This all changed when the King wanted her for himself. Now as one of his brides she must learn how to survive in the chaotic and decadent Zofian court.





	1. First Sight

**Author's Note:**

> This story is about Liprica and how she wound up in Zofia castle. This work is set about 17 years before the events of SoV. Horizontal lines indicate a time skip.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liprica catches the attention of the king, beginning the end of her time at the temple.

_Temple of Mila, 384 VC_

 

 

The morning at the temple was like any other. The sun would rise, bathing everything in its golden rays. Anything within its reach was dragged out of their slumber, marking the start of a new day.

Liprica was no exception, she realised as she stirred. She tried to open her eyes, but the harsh sunlight made her squint in discomfort.

_'Are we cursed to experience mornings?'_ she thought as she groaned in discomfort.

When her eyes finally adjusted, she scanned the room to find the source of the light. The culprit turned out to be the open window next to her bed.

_'Where else would it have come from?'_ she chastised to herself.

There was no one to blame but herself. The curtains were the last thing on her mind when she collapsed on her bed the night before. She couldn't remember what she had been doing in her half-asleep state, but it must have been something exhausting.

Liprica sat up to look out the window. The sun was inching above the horizon to her left, telling her it was a bit too early for breakfast. Instead of waiting for it to be the right time, the woman decided to get dressed. She dragged herself out of bed, opened her wardrobe and pulled out one of her dresses. It didn't matter which one she had, they were all long, shapeless and white. They were easy to pull on, which made up for their simplicity.

Next was the cape, which took the longest to put on. If she wasn't spending her time getting it to fall right, she was struggling to fasten it at the back. When she finally got it on, she could feel the collar around her neck. It was tight, but not to the extent that it affected her breathing. The bottom of the cape was attached to a set of pauldrons. When she was done, it only covered her shoulders and upper arms. It was the standard uniform for clerics, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

Finally came the belt and wimple, which were easier to put on. Her hair was longer than most clerics, so she only tucked the back into the wimple. The rest she let hang loose.

After a cursory glance at a nearby mirror, Liprica set off toward the dining hall. She followed the same route she always took: she walked to the end of the corridor, descended a flight of stairs and turned left to find her destination.

Two soldiers were standing guard by the door. She could feel them scrutinising her as she walked past to get in. While it was an honour for the king to come visit the temple, the cleric didn't like the heightened security.

When she entered the dining room, she saw that it was full of clerics, sages, mages and villagers. She was familiar with most of the people there, especially those who served Mila. Those people were easy to spot, as they wore similar clothing to her.

A table at the front was used to serve breakfast. Today they were serving sliced bread with either jam, honey or fish on top. The cleric grabbed a plate and served herself two slices with honey.

Her friends were in their usual spot at one of the central tables. She made her way over to them and sat at the place they saved for her. They all muttered good mornings before resuming their chatting. They were looking forward to the king's visit. He had been recently coronated, and the clerics wanted to know what kind of man he was.

Liprica turned to the woman next to her. She knew Irma didn't like the royal family, while she didn't care about them herself.

"Anything new?" she asked.

"I've heard that Mila is looking for another Saint after Juno passed away," she said, leaning in to whisper the news. "I think you should put yourself forward."

Liprica had known of Juno's demise the other day, but she considered it poor taste to ask for a promotion so soon. She didn't want it anyway. It may have sounded boring, but she wanted a life free from responsibility. Knowing this would offend her friend, she opted to nod and finish her breakfast without saying a word.

The king had come to watch them during their midday prayer. He didn't partake in the service, instead watching from the back of the room. Liprica sneaked a peak at him during a moment of silence.

As the eldest son of the previous king, she had expected to see someone more refined. He wasn't the most unattractive person she had ever met, but he looked too thin for someone of his status. His clothing did little to hide it, the low-cut top showed off his collarbones and the top of his ribs.

Liprica didn't know what she expected a king to look like, but it definitely wasn't that. She pitied the man, and focused on the idol at the front. A prayer for health was long overdue for him.

What Liprica didn't notice was that the king noticed her. His pupils dilated, jerking him out of the daze he was in. It didn't matter that she was a cleric, he wanted her and he was willing to do anything to have her. She was wasting her life praying to an overgrown lizard, when she should be worshipping him.

Unfortunately for him, Irma had spotted his change in body language. He was no longer fidgeting, and he did nothing but look at her friend. It creeped her out.

When the service was over, Irma shared her concern with her best friend. The king had left shortly after the prayers had finished, but she still feared for the safety of her friend.

"Our so-called king gives me the creeps," she said in disgust. "You should have seen the way he was leering at you, it was as if he saw you as a piece of meat!"

"Peace, Irma. I highly doubt he would come after me or anyone else here," Liprica said, as she started to walk away from her friend. "Even if the Earth Mother approved, he's already married."

"I don't think he cares about that," Irma argued as they left the chamber. "From what I've heard, he lives only for wine and women. For your sake, be careful."

Liprica decided it was best not to argue with Irma. If she was convinced there was something wrong, there was little she could do to dissuade her.

The two walked together in silence, parting ways at the end of the corridor. There was work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the revised version of Chapter 1. Your comments have helped me improve my writing with every chapter.
> 
> Hemmingway has also been useful. I've been using it to help me proof-read my fics and assignments. I̶ ̶p̶u̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶o̶r̶i̶g̶i̶n̶a̶l̶ ̶v̶e̶r̶s̶i̶o̶n̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶c̶h̶a̶p̶t̶e̶r̶ ̶o̶n̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶y̶i̶k̶e̶s̶.


	2. The Blessing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting with Mila changes Liprica's life forever

Evening prayer was always a shorter affair than its midday counterpart. Instead of the great hall, the congregation gathered to kneel in front of the statue of Mila in a different room. A sage, usually the oldest member of the temple, conducted the sermon while everyone else prayed and reflected on the day.

Liprica was among this group, praying to Mila for a long and happy life for her, her friends, and the people of Zofia and Rigel. There was not much else to pray for; Mila's bounty kept the land fertile and her people never went without the basics. Before she knew it, the service was over and chatter filled the room.

At the people filtered out of the room, Liprica was approached by the sages. Whatever it was must have been important, as the man looked like he was in a hurry and wanted to speak in private.

"Miss Liprica, the Mother wishes for you to visit her after you've had your dinner," he said. While his voice was cool and impersonal, his eyes refused to meet hers as he spoke. "She wants you to visit alone. It is a very important matter." The man quickly moved on to another room, leaving the cleric to wonder why she had been summoned. While part of her believed it was the promotion her friends were talking about, another part couldn't shake the feeling that it was something more sinister. Not that she had any right to refuse the Mother's audience, anyway. 

Liprica decided to get dinner after her stomach loudly rumbled. It was silly to think of the Mother doing anything but what was best for her people, she didn't have to worry.

The dining hall was filled with quieter murmurs than usual, courtesy of the presence of zofian soldiers. They didn't seem to bothered about the whispers swarming them, keeping their focus on those leaving and entering. Liprica shrank into herself as their piercing gaze bored into her, making sure she wasn't suspicious. She picked up her pace, making a beeline for a bowl of soup on the way to her usual table. Irma didn't even acknowledge her presence, as she was busy matching a soldiers glare with one of her own.

"What's the deal with these guys?" Irma complained. "It's not like we're going to get sacked by rigelians or brigands anytime soon."

Liprica shrugged, it was unlikely they would share their intentions with them anyway, so there was no point discussing it. She let her eyes wonder to the armour the guards were wearing to help tune out Irma's rambling. It was blue metal plate attached to the chest with leather straps. These men must be low ranking, she noted, since said plating only covered the chest and shoulders. She tilted her head sideways to see if they wore any-

"Liprica!" Irma half-shouted, jerking the cleric out of her thoughts. She hoped her friend wasn't going to babble about valentian history again, or she'd be late for her meeting with Mila. "You've got soup in your hair." She looked down to see that some strands were dipped into the bowl, turning her white hair pale brown. Gingerly, she reached out to lift it out, before running her tongue along the strands. It tasted of chicken and rosemary, to her complete lack of surprise. She glanced up to see Irma's hand covering her mouth, trying to stifle her giggles. This, combined with the thought of standing in front of the goddess smelling of soup, caused Liprica to snort loudly as she tried to hold back her laughter. This caught the attention of some mages at the next table, but she didn't care.

* * *

Her heart was hammering in her chest. She had cleaned herself up as best as she could, but she still felt unworthy standing in front of the Mother. Part of her hair had become sticky from the dried soup, despite numerous attempts to scrape it off. Even during an event as important as this, she was concerned she was disrespecting the Earth Mother. Gingerly she tucked the messy locks behind her ear, hoping that Mila hadn't noticed. Once she was satisfied with how she looked, she was able to pay attention to the one who summoned her.

The goddess was beautiful, yet imposing even in her human form. The dress she wore had creases from sitting on her throne for so long; in Liprica's lifetime she can count on one hand the number of times she had left the room. Currently she was slouching on said throne, her emerald eyes scrutinising the cleric before speaking.

"Liprica, was it?" she asked. The cleric nodded the affirmative. "Good. I would like to offer you my blessing."

"Forgive me my lady, but why are you giving me your blessing?" her servant asked, brows furrowing in confusion. There were few occasions where a blessing was given to a person, and even then most wouldn't be to a mere healer.

"For marriage of course. King Lima told me how much you loved him and I couldn't say no," the goddess said as her mouth curved into a grin. Liprica's eyes widened in shock. There was no way she could have possibly fallen for the king's lies. She was too good to allow such a thing.

"But-" Liprica protested.

"You would make a wonderful Queen and wife," Mila interrupted as she suddenly stood up. "What sort of mother would I be if I didn't let a loving couple marry?"

_'Has the Mother gone mad!?'_ the cleric thought to herself. She had looked at the men at the back of the room, hoping to get their sympathy. If they did feel anything, they did not show it.  _'That creep has only looked at me. What chemistry could exist purely from a couple of glances?'_

"The guards are already here to escort you to the castle. You have half an hour to collect your belongings and say your goodbyes." 

How could she get out of this? There was no way anyone important would believe her over a king and a goddess, nor could she flee the temple with the guards posted everywhere. Fighting was out of the question, she wouldn't last five minutes against so many soldiers. Hanging her head in defeat, she turned away from the mother and obediently headed to her bedroom. She felt numb. This had to be one of the worst things to have happened in her life, and she couldn't do anything to stop it.

She didn't even hear the stomping from the soldiers following her.

* * *

Once she had closed the door behind her, she collapsed on her bed and started to sob.

_'Why me?'_ she thought, wondering what she had done to make the dragon think she was in love. Was it the way she dressed? Was it how she stood? Or was it the fact she looked into his eyes once?

With tears still in her eyes, Liprica got together what little possessions she had and looked out of her window. She used the sleeve of her dress to wipe the moisture out of her eyes. As she watched the countryside, she made sure to memorise every tree, every rolling hill and every animal frolicking within until she was certain she would never forget it. Reluctantly she moved away from the window to look into the mirror,  _her_ mirror, for the last time time. 

She looked a mess. Her grey eyes were already swollen, the sight of which nearly kick-started another crying session. The front right strands of her hair had fallen back to the front and were still discoloured from the soup, which immediately made her think of Irma. She could already imagine her friend sitting at her usual spot in the dining hall and wondering where she had gone.

_'I'll have to tell her where I'm going_ ,' she decided before leaving the room. One of the guards was polite enough to tell her she had fifteen minutes when she asked. In a rare moment of good luck for the cleric, she spotted Irma heading for her bedroom.

"Irma!" Liprica shouted, catching her friend's attention. The woman's shoulders tensed up just by seeing the guards, but she slightly let her guard down when she spotted her.

"Liprica," Irma asked. "Why are you with these guards?"

The cleric lowered her head, scrunching her face as she tried to find the words. Her life had been turned upside down in less than an hour, she could barely comprehend it herself let alone tell someone else. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it when the words didn't come out. The guards were too close, and she felt like she could't turn her back on them. They could hear anything and hold that against her, making her even more worried than she already was.

"Could we talk alone? My friend is awfully shy," Irma's words had broken the awkward silence, much to her relief.

"We'll stand at the opposite end of the corridor. We were ordered to keep an eye on the woman, but I'll give you two some space," said one of the men. Judging by the intricate patterns on the edges of his plate, he was the highest-ranking of the group. That, and the way the other men followed him to the back of the room. Liprica wondered if he might even be a nobleman himself; he did carry himself as if he was one.

Once she was satisfied with the distance of the guards, Liprica turned back to face her friend.

"Well... I have to go," she said, lowering her voice so the guards couldn't hear her.

"Go where?" Irma asked.

"Zofia Castle. The king wants me to marry him and Mila has given her blessing." 

"Can't you tell her there's been a mistake?"

"And refuse the Earth Mother? No one would believe me, and even if they did I don't have much time to tell them."

Liprica could already feel her throat tighten as hysteria threatened to take over. Tears were cascading down her face before she could look away. There were so many things she could have done to avoid this, but she had ignored all the signs from Irma's warning to the uncomfortable-looking sage. She should have said something earlier, but it was far too late to go back now.  _'_ _If only I could turn back time. I could have prevented this from happening,'_   she thought.  _'_ _Irma probably thinks I'm an idiot.'_

"I'll try to make her see sense," Irma said as she placed her hand on Liprica's shoulder, snapping her out of her thoughts. "She should listen to reason, I think."

"Thank you for your offer, but I don't want you to risk your reputation for my sake."

Liprica couldn't bring herself to look her friend in the eye, for she feared she would see the disappointment behind them. She was a good friend, even if she was too optimistic at times. Things will never be the same without spending most of her time with her. The two women stood in silence until one of the men gruffly told them it was time to go. They hugged and said their goodbyes before parting ways.

"This isn't goodbye," Irma said to herself as she watched Liprica walk away, surrounded by guards. "I'll visit you at the castle as soon as I can."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Mila went insane long before she disappeared, centuries of worship probably got to her head and nobody dared to object to her judgement. Plus the whole divine dragon thing would make for one crazy deity.  
> And I guess guilt complexes run in the family ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Comments and kudos are always welcome.


	3. The Long Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liprica had time to think about her situation before she is welcomed at Zofia Castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll warn you there are references to non-consensual sex, but nothing graphic.

Liprica wondered why, with so much planning going into taking her away, she wasn't warped to the castle. Instead she had been stuffed  into a carriage as soon as she left the temple and carted off before the sun had set completely.

 _'How difficult is it to ask one of the clerics for help?'_ she seethed, thinking of the sage she now realised was in on the plan. Even in her anger she cried, her tears flowing until the temple disappeared from the horizon. 

Sleep was out of the question, she came to realise. The hard wood of the seat would bite into her backside no matter how she arranged herself. She slumped on one of the walls and tried to relax her stiff shoulders. The glass chilled her arm, causing an outbreak of goosebumps on her skin. 

 

 

There wasn't much to see out the window but trees and grass. Though she couldn't see them, Liprica could hear the horse trotting in front of her, and its owner shouting at it. His voice was so shrill it made her cringe and cover her ears.

She sighed. Her breath ghosted on the window, obscuring her view in a sea of white. Through the mist she could see silhouettes rushing by, denying her their secrets. It was obvious they were trees, so she decided to count them through the frosted glass.

_'One, two, three, four...'_

After counting her twentieth tree, she thought about what would happen when she reached her destination. It was unlikely the wedding would take place until she got some rest and freshened up. There was no doubt that she would have her own room until then.

_'Most likely somewhere I can't escape from,'_ she thought  bitterly.  _'Can't disappoint the king on his big day.'_

She didn't have the energy to think about the finer details of the wedding. It didn't take much brainpower to know it would be as busy as it was excessive, like most royal weddings. All of the guests would be nobles; the chances of anyone she knew being invited was almost zero. 

The final part of the wedding was the same regardless of cost: consummation.

She shuddered at the thought. The thought of  being fucked by  him - by any man - made her feel sick to the stomach. Her body was supposed to be hers to do as she wished. And she didn't want it to be defiled in such a way.

_'If he didn't care about my feelings about marrying him, why would he when it came to sex?'_ she asked herself. That question scared her, for she felt she already knew his reasoning.

Instead of dwelling on it any more, she carried on counting. There was no use worrying about something she couldn't change. The window had cleared up long ago, making it a bit easier to distinguish the trees.

_'Thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six...'_

Tree number thirty-six was the largest one so far, towering above thirty-five and thirty-seven. It was impressive given how close to the desert this part the route was, even if divine intervention kept them alive.

She wished for divine intervention. If Mila hadn't been the reason she was in this mess she would have prayed to her for guidance. Now she didn't want anything to do with her. She thought praying to Duma instead, but she knew that would be as futile as it was sacrilegious. He knew less about love than his sister. Liprica thought herself a fool for devoting years of her life to an overgrown lizard who favoured the royal family. 

Instead of praying, she counted like her life depended on it. She counted nearly three hundred trees before she felt her eyes drift shut. The cleric spent the rest of the journey sleeping restlessly.

 

* * *

A sudden jolt forced her to wake up.

Liprica opened her eyes and looked out the window despite her body's protests. The warm glow of the morning sun burned her retinas, forcing her to divert her attention elsewhere.

She could see a white building in front of her, which had to be Zofia castle. Clearly  no expense had  been spared, if the number of towers and arches were any  indication. A single arch taller than the rest marked the entrance, dwarfing all that passed through. A slither of turquoise could be seen out the window, along with part of a crest emblazoned on it.

Someone opened the door of the carriage, allowing her to get a closer look as she stepped out. In front of her were a group of guards lead by a young woman. She was wearing plate armour like her peers, though hers had flowers engraved around the edge. The petals were painted the same shade of pink as her hair and outlined with silver, adding an air of elegance to her outfit. 

"Good morning, Miss Liprica," she said, taking the cleric's hand in her own. Her voice was soft, yet refined. "I am Lady Zofia."

Liprica knew there was only one woman called Zofia, and she was the heir of her namesake. The cleric pitied the princess for having such a redundant name.

"Good morning, Your Highness," she said as she shook the hand in her own. Zofia's grip was firm without crushing her hand, and she disengaged quickly. 

Once again she found herself staring at the princess's armour. Other than the arms and the head no skin was exposed, covered in fabric or plate. While it did look practical it made her wonder how she didn't overheat. Upon closer inspection the flowers on her plate looked like azalea, which made her think of the flowers growing outside the temple. Even during the coldest Flostym Mila's blessing made them grow outside the temple. The hues of pink and orange brightened an otherwise dull landscape, even if their fragrance was overpowering.

Liprica didn't realise she was staring at Zofia's chest until the latter cleared her throat, startling her out of her thoughts. She tried to think of something to say. Something appropriate. Something other than the weather, the impending wedding or the king's character.

Her mind drew a blank, so she stared at nothing.

"While it is nice to see you, you look exhausted," she said, breaking the awkward silence. "I can show you your room if you like."

She did want to go to her room, but it was as far away as her old life. Part of her wanted to tell the princess to take her back, to tell her there had been a mistake. That her father didn't know her well enough to be anything more than an acquaintance.

Speaking of her father, Liprica thought the young woman in front of her was a bit old to be his daughter. It wasn't a secret that he was a philanderer, but it was a shock to see he had children before he himself was an adult. She was curious about the legitimacy of Zofia; it was unlikely she was born before he married yet she was still heir. Unfortunately she was too tired to ask such a sensitive question, even if she wanted to know. 

Her desire for a decent bed and a few hours of sleep won over her inquisitive mind, so she decided to follow Zofia into the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I took so long and that not much happens this chapter. Between work and a holiday I've not had much time to write this up. Next chapter will be more interesting.  
> I hope I was able to add Liprica's thought process a bit better this chapter, as it was something commented on.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always welcome.


	4. The Day Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day of guests and reading does little to distract the cleric.

Liprica didn't want to get out of bed. There was no point. The door was locked and she had nothing to do but read the book next to her.

The novel was about a noble who had spent most of their life in a tower, hidden away from the world. Their father had confined them there for most of their life, unaware of the outside world. She got to the part where they had to choose between their biological or adoptive family, who were coincidentally at war with each other. 

She could relate to the protagonist, for she too had been stuck in a tower since she arrived. 

It had been a few days since she arrived and she had to make do with what few books were available to her. The window gave her a decent view of the town surrounding the castle, though she was too high up to see its people. A desk sat next to it, empty save for the chair tucked into it. There were other pieces of furniture around the room which were nothing more than decoration. The exception was the wardrobe, which had a couple of dresses, nightgowns and other clothing.

Liprica turned over so she could see her book.

Her bed alone was half the size of her old room and had more cushions than she needed. The sheets embracing her were soft, yet light like the feathers lining it. The chest of drawers beside her had been polished to perfection, reflecting the rays of the rising sun. 

A knock at the door finally got her out of bed, despite her body's protests. The curtains, left open from last night, had more frills and loops than anything she had seen in her life. They were also the same shade of lilac as the rug and bedding, which worked well with the cream carpet.

It was too early to be her butler serving breakfast. He wasn't one for conversation, but he gave her her meals without complaint. It was also too soon for her handmaid. She didn't understand why she needed someone to bathe and dress her, but she didn't want to disappoint someone so enthusiastic.

The first new visitor was a tailor, a small man with a thin moustache. He was very much a gossip, rambling on about the wedding as he waited for her to remove her nightdress. His back was turned, allowing the cleric to discreetly change into her undergarments. The tailor was professional, only touching her body when he was taking her measurements. 

Thanks to him she was able to get some information about her big day. She now knew that Zofia was going to be the maid of honour, while some nobleman called Desaix would be the best man. The king decided the decorations would be the same blues and greens as the royal banners. This would dictate what colours the guests would be allowed to wear. Except for her; she would be wearing the traditional white. She was concerned her pale hair would be too similar, even if the tailor assured her it would look beautiful on her.

After a few hours of chatting and measuring, the tailor left. Other than her usual visits from her servants she had some time to herself, so she read a few more pages of her book. She was intrigued to find out the protagonist refused to choose a side, much to the chagrin of both royal families. When she finished reading it was midday, judging by how high the sun hung from the sky.

Liprica wasn't alone for long, as a second guest knocked on the door.

"Come in," she called.

It was Zofia. She had swapped her heavy armour for a knee-length dress that made climbing stairs easier on her legs. The princess was silent as she stormed in, not even stopping to greet her host. Her jaw was as tense as her shoulders, forcing her to breathe harshly through her nose.

"Are you all right?" Liprica asked.

"I'm fine," she said bluntly, hands on her hips. "I just had a disagreement with my father, that's all."

 _'Why has she come to me, then?'_  Liprica thought.  _'I must have something to do with their falling out'_

"Was it about the wedding?" she asked. There was nothing else it could have been, or she would have gone to someone else. 

Zofia sighed. "If it were up to me, this wouldn't be happening. Nothing against you, but he's being selfish."

"In what way is he being selfish?" 

 _'Other than forcing me out of the temple I called home so he could sleep with me,'_  the cleric finished in her mind. There was no doubt he was selfish, but she realised his daughter needed to vent her frustrations.

"He's a bigamist. What makes it worse is that he somehow got Mila to bend her rules for him."

Liprica was so shocked she had to sit on her bed before her legs gave way. The king was already married? That was definitely against the law. This would have saved her if she was forced to wed anyone else.

"H-how?" she muttered.

"I don't know." Zofia shrugged as she pulled a chair forward to sit on. "Knowing him, he told her how important it was to keep the bloodline going. Apparently my siblings and I aren't enough."

Why was the bloodline so important? It was common knowledge that Lima was the descendant of Mila's champion, but he wasn't special enough to be exempt from such important rules. She wondered how many women he slept with to even consider it. She needed to know how many lives he ruined.

"How many wives does he have?" she asked, leaning closer to her guest. She knew she wasn't the first, and that she was unlikely to be his last.

"He'll have two tomorrow," Zofia said, holding up two fingers. She raised another. "He's had three others, but not at the same time. All three of them are dead. Mila knows how many mistresses he's had."

 _'That's a lot of women,'_ Liprica thought. If she wasn't going to be another notch in his bedpost she would have been impressed. She found it odd most weren't among the living, though. 

"How did they die?" she asked. "If you don't mind me asking."

The princess was silent for a moment. She was staring out the window as she thought, as if she was choosing her words with great care.

"Two of them died in childbirth. The third in an accident," she answered curtly. "I didn't know much about them."

Childbirth. That was another thing the cleric didn't want to think about, especially if it could kill her. It was alien to her, and the thought of having a  _thing_ growing inside her was too much to bear. Especially if it was the result of another thing she didn't like. Her mind conjured an image of a baby boy with sunken eyes and a mop of rosy hair: the spitting image of its father.

"Why me?" she asked.

"Because you were pretty and he was getting bored of his wife," Zofia said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Even if she was the most beautiful woman in all Valentia there were no political ties she could secure. It just didn't make sense to the cleric.

The tension in the room was almost suffocating. Liprica could feel her brows furrowing, both in confusion and annoyance. Across her she could see Zofia's fists clenching and unclenching, relieving the tension in her face. Both of them took deep breaths, getting their thoughts in order.

It was Zofia who spoke first.

"This is quite embarrasing, but could you tell me a bit about yourself?" she said. The change in subject instantly lightened the mood. "I can't write my speech without getting to know you. It wouldn't feel right."

This was something the cleric found easier to talk about. She spent most of the afternoon talking about her upbringing and work; stopping only when Zofia asked a question. Liprica noticed any mention of the goddess would make the princess grimace, so she talked less of her and the Mila Faithful. At least she wasn't the only person not overly keen on her.

To her surprise, Zofia took a special interest in her friends.

"Is Irma special to you?" she asked.

Irma had been the one Liprica mentioned the most; they were friend since they were little. The cleric remembered when they used to share a bedroom, Irma claiming the top bunk of the bed they shared. They were inseparable even as adults.

A pang of guilt hit her; Irma must be so worried about her right now.

"She's like the sister I never had," Liprica replied. "I haven't seen her since I left."

Zofia brought her hand to her chin and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them she was smiling, dimples making her face more youthful.

"I'll see if I can get her to visit you," she said. "I can't promise anything, but you'll be able to see her some time after the wedding."

The women continued chatting long after the sun had set. Zofia excused herself, but not before letting her know the guards would be waking her up at sunrise. 

She was finally alone. All that was left to do was think, which was the last thing she wanted to do. Her book would have been a good distraction if she was able to focus on the words. She was reading the same line over and over again, getting nothing from the story. Even though her mind was foggy, her body was raring to go.  Defeated, she left her book where she found it and wandered aimlessy. 

Every step hammered home how trapped she was. It was a far cry from her life in the temple, where she could easily sneak out during sleepless nights. She never went far, only reaching as far as the back of the building. The droning sound of the nightlife was something that always helped her relax.

The silence was deafening in comparison. She needed something, anything, to calm her racing thoughts. Something soft, yet repetitive, like the rain during a Flostym evening. Her best bet was the ensuite bathroom, which included a sink as well as a bath and toilet. Liprica walked to the sink and turned the faucet a fraction. Waster rushed out of the tap, so she turned it back slightly. The sound of water droplets hitting porcelain was like music to her ears.

Liprica's mind cleared with every drop she heard, helping her body relax too. Now satisfied with the ambience, the cleric climbed into bed and eventually fell asleep. She dreamt of rain that exploded into confetti as soon as it hit the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I̶ ̶w̶o̶n̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶w̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶b̶o̶o̶k̶ ̶s̶h̶e̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶r̶e̶a̶d̶i̶n̶g̶  
> This chapter's more dialogue-heavy than I originally planned, so the wedding will be in the next chapter. I think this is the most I've written for a chapter.  
> I don't know if they have running water, but if they have sluice gates and magic so I'll assume so.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are always welcome.


	5. Chapter 5

_The street was covered in confetti. Paper petals swarmed her in the torrential downpour. She couldn't see her feet through the sea of pink. Determined to escape, she hiked up her dress and ran through the street. Not once did she look back. There was nothing to look back on._

_The road beneath her feet became more unstable as she ran off the beaten track. Yet the flowers still persisted in their pursuit._

_She never stopped running. Her heart and lungs were working overtime to keep up with the rest of her body._

_Finally, she succumbed to exhaustion. She let go of her dress, which her feet subsequently tripped over. The last thing she remembered was her face meeting the ground._

* * *

Her head falling on her pillow jolted her awake. Her eyes weren't as quick, opening as little as they could.

Gingerly, she turned her head sideways. She hissed as the light from the window burned into her retinas. The cleric buried herself under the in some temporary relief, which the birds ruined with their incessant chirping. Normally she would be happy to hear them, but now she felt nothing but envy towards them. Birds didn't have any silly customs they had to partake in, even if they were confined in a cage.

The duvet that were covering her felt more restrictive than before. It was hot, too hot, and she could feel the sweat sticking the cotton sheets to her skin. She kicked the covers of her body, welcoming the cool air on her skin.

The bed was too comfortable to leave. To pass the time she decided to read her book, that was just within arms reach. She quickly found her place and started to read.

Unfortunately for her, there were only two chapters left. She knew how it ended, the protagonist was able to bring their family together, but not much else had sunk in. Her eyes refused to focus on one line at a time, instead darting around the page. 

By the time she finished the cleric wanted to have a bath. She swung her legs out, got out of bed and headed for the en suite. It didn't take long to run the water and take off her nightdress, which she folded up and placed next to the door. The towels were in a neat pile next to the tub. 

Her hands were placed at the side of the bathtub, keeping her stable as she dipped her toe it. The water was warm enough to not freeze her skin and cool enough to keep her awake, which was exactly what she needed. She hoisted the rest of her body into the tub before letting her body sink down. The water reached her chest, which made it  relatively  easy to wash her hair and body. The floral perfume of the new shampoo was different to the previous bottle, having a more fruity scent than before. Her hands were covered in suds when she removed them from her hair, which dispersed when she dunked them in the water. Her head soon followed, washing the soap out of her hair with a quick flick of her head.

A knock at the door cut her bath time short. She forced herself into a sitting position so her voice could be heard.

"Give me a moment," she shouted to the guest behind the door. 

With a heavy heart, she drained the water and climbed out. The towel she rubbed against her body felt as soft as ever, absorbing as much water as it could. She then used a fresh towel to dry off the excess water in her hair before putting on the fresh nightgown conveniently next to the pile of towels.

When she was ready, she walked to the door and opened. It was the maid, accompanied by the butler and the tailor she met the day before. All three of them looked like they had been running, judging my how much they were panting.

"Good morning, Miss Liprca," said the maid, trying to hide the exhaustion in her voice. "I hope we didn't disturb you.

"It's all right," Liprica lied. Everything was the opposite of all right. She couldn't even relax with the thought of marrying constantly playing on her mind, especially when today was the big day.

"Well," the maid drawled out the word. "We'll set up while you have breakfast."

All three of them brought various items with them, which they placed in the centre of the room. Smaller items were placed on the dresser next to the floor-length mirror the tailor had dragged in. The last item the maid brought in was the dress, still in its bag. She treated it as if it was the most fragile object in existence as she placed it on the bed. With her favourite spot taken, Liprica had to sit on the chair by the desk.

The butler brought her a plate filled with bread rolls and various jams, along with some butter knives to use for spreading. He set them on the desk, giving the cleric easy access to them

The rolls were light and fluffy in her mouth, complimenting the sweetness of the jam within the slices. It reminded her of how often it would stick to her hair, or spill onto her clothes as she tried to spread it while walking. Sometimes a friend would point it out, which she preferred to finding out herself in the evening.

The servants had finished setting up when she had her last sandwich. Without saying a word, she made her way to the centre of the room. She could see all three of them fighting with the bag confining the wedding dress, which refused to yield its contents. 

Eventually they got the dress out in one piece. The tailor left the group to go to the cleric, who was standing in the middle of the room. He directed her to take off her nightgown before putting the garment in the pile of worn clothes. 

Liprica wasn't naked long enough to look at her body in the mirror, for the butler and the maid had joined her. She cooperated with them, raising her arms when they asked her to so they could slip the dress over her head. The butler sorted out the bottom of the dress as the maid fastened it together. After a few adjustments, the butler pulled away.

The maid stayed, however. She now had a hairbrush in hand, going through the strands with as great care as possible. She pulled her hair in different directions before deciding on gathering it at the top of her head. Liprica kept her eyes closed during the ordeal so the maid wouldn't be distracted by her wincing. Her hair was still being tugged as it was secured with pins. She opened her eyes one she was sure the maid was finished.

Looking at herself in the mirror made her think back to the dream she had. She could only remember fragments, the rest had slipped out of her mind but she remembered being afraid. A polite cough drew her attention to the tailor, who had a quizzical look on his face.

"Milady, what do you think?" asked the tailor. His mouth was smiling, but his eyes betrayed what he really felt.

"I look like a meringue," she blurted out before covering her mouth in embarrassment. She didn't mean to be so  brutally  honest, even if the bun and the wide skirt made her look more like a dessert than a bride. 

The tailor moved in front of her, scrutinising her face before looking at her hair. His eyes still had the same doubtful look as before. After a moment of contemplation they brightened up, struck by an idea.

"The circlet!" he cried out. "How on earth did I forget that?"

He picked up one of the boxes that had littered the surface of the dresser before returning to the bride. He opened it, giving the bride-to-be a look at its contents. 

It looked like a headband, but it was made of gold and was thicker in the middle. Ornate patterns had been carved into the metal, which had interlocking chains of the same colour looped underneath. A small green gem dangled from the centre of the decorative chains, gleaming in the sunlight. 

"I'll put it on for you," the tailor said as he took it out of its box. "There's no veil so you don't have to worry about knocking it off."

It was surprisingly easy to wear with her hair tied back; the tailor carefully slipped it on the top of her head. Once he was happy about its position he tucked the edges behind her silvery hair before smoothing the strands down. She could feel the cold metal soothe her forehead, giving her head temporary relief. The gold band also helped break up the sea of white her appearance invoked, which made it look more natural.

"It looks great," she said. It looked so amazing on her that she couldn't find the right words to say. She hoped she could keep it after the wedding was over, she hoped it would be subtle enough to wear in court.

"I'm glad you like it," the tailor said. "All that's left is the shoes and make up and you're good to go."

The make up was surprisingly quick, relatively speaking. Liprica had expected to be smothered in the powders and creams littering the dresser, but thankfully the tailor only picked up two brushes. Liprica automatically closed her eyes as he came close to her face. She shivered as the they glided across her skin, unused to even the bare minimum of make-up. When he was done she could see a faint hint of green framing her eyes and a pale pink powder ghosting her cheeks.

At last, the shoes were put on. Liprica had to lift the dress so the maid could find her feet, which made her wonder how she was going to walk downstairs.

"How am I getting there?" she asked.

All three of them were silent as they tried to think of something. The butler and tailor quickly huddled together, talking in hushed voices. The maid leaned in to the pair, hands behind her back and her eyes wider than ever before. Liprica knew a few spells that would have been useful, if she was able to cast them on herself.

"I have an idea," the maid exclaimed, snapping everyone out of their thoughts. "I know Rescue, so I could go to the ground floor and warp Lady Liprica down. That is if milady approves, of course."

The cleric nodded in agreement. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than having to risk falling down the stairs.  She knew exactly how the spell worked, it was one all clerics knew when they had enough experience, but she had never been on the receiving end of one. The cleric had been fortunate enough to never need it until now.

"Good, I'll see you downstairs," said the maid before rushing out the room. The remaining three waited until the echo of footsteps on stone faded, leaving them in silence. The trio said nothing as they waited, instead they looked around the room. Liprica was scrutinising the floor when a tingling sensation started to fill her body. She quicky looked up to her servants as she felt herself being pulled downwards. The world around her faded into white as she felt her body float in the void. 

She materialised in front of her maid, who was accompanied with a guardsman. She was becoming more accustomed to being followed everywhere, even if she didn't like how impersonal her guards were. The man in question never said a word as he took her to an imposing doorway. Zofia was facing it before turning to face the group. Her maid gave a small nod before leaving, leaving Liprica to her fate. The guard took his place by the door, standing to attention behind the princess. His face was as void of expression as it was before.

The two women stood in silence as they scrutinised each other's appearance. Zofia's teal dress lacked any patterns or frills, making her look rather plain in comparison. The most striking thing about her attire was a necklace adorned with diamonds, which had to be worth more that what a villager made in their lifetime. A matching hair clip kept her hair pinned behind her shoulders. Her eyes, which had a hint of green eye shadow, narrowed when she looked at the bottom half of Liprica's dress.

"It could be worse," Zofia said, hiding her disapproval with optimism. "That dress could be a few inches too big."

"Really?" Liprica asked.

The princess nodded. "That's what happened last wedding. The bride spent the whole day pulling it up, I felt sorry for her."

At least she wasn't the first, she mused. A small voice in the back of her mind told her it was a sign of things to come, reminding her of her dream. It was a miracle the dress fitted as well as it did, given the circumstances.

She wondered if anything had  been prepared as the time stretched on. It felt like she and Zofia had been standing at the entrance for a long time.

"So, when do I come in?"

Liprica knew exactly when she had to come in, she had witnessed many a wedding at the temple, but she needed to break the silence. She knew most brides didn't have to wi

"When the music starts playing. I've got a feeling we'll be waiting for a while." Zofia said, gesturing toward the door. Liprica could hear a muffled voice, which she assumed was a sage who happened to love the sound of his own voice.

"Could be worse," Liprica said. "We could be stuck inside listening to him."

"True," she aid, smiling for the first time that day. "Though I'd rather we get this over with."

"Well, you're in luck," interrupted the guard. "It's time to make your entrance."

As if on cue, the muffled sound of music seeped into the chamber before the doors opened. The room was massive, even larger than the main chamber of the temple. A gold statue of Mila was erected in the back of the room, looming over her audience. Nobles filled every seat available, some even standing around the perimeter. All eyes were on her as she walked down the aisle.

At the front was Lima, along with his best man and the sage she heard earlier. All three of them were wearing clothes of a similar colour to Zofia's dress. The king was wearing what appeared to be armour, except it lacked the usual wear and tear and had a teal cape attatched. His face was the same colour as his hair, showing he was not faring well in the humid room.

Eventually she reached the front, taking her place next to Lima. His eyes met hers, his gaze boring into her skull. She turned to face the sage so she didn't have to look at the King's Face without looking disrespectful. He appeared to be middle-aged, for his brown hair showed little trace of grey. He didn't seem to notice her staring, for he was busy glaring at the king when he thought no one noticed.

The song had ended, bringing silence to the room before the sage spoke.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we are gathered here today to witness the union of King Lima of Zofia and Liprica of Mila," the sage's words echoed across the room. "A union most unorthodox, yet acceptable in the eyes of the Mother." Liprica shifted from one leg to the other, grateful that her movements were hidden. Lima's movements were more obvious, leaning one way or another. She was surprised he could feel shame for what he had done.

The sage continued to drone on, ignoring the display in front of him. His voice vibrated against the bride's eardrums. She didn't know what he was saying, but it made the king more restless until he choked out a cough. The sage wrapped up his mini-sermon and moved on to the vows.

"Lima, do you wish to take Liprica as your wife?" he asked.

"I do," he answered, leering at his prize.

"And Liprica, do you wish to take Lima as your husband?"

She opened her mouth, but no sound would come out. With  just  two words her old life would be over. Her past as a cleric would be behind her, along with her freedom and individuality. It would be so easy to say no.

"Liprica, do you want to marry this man?"

Mila wouldn't accept her back at the temple, and everyone she ever knew lived there too. She didn't want to get married, but she knew there was nowhere else for her to go. With a heavy heart, she gave her answer.

"I do."

The rest of the ceremony seemed to rush by, she ignored the sage's droning as she tried to process what she had done. Hearing new voices managed to shake her out of it before she could panic. The first belonged to the best man, Desaix, his voice more gruff than the king and the sage. The other, which sounded more formal and feminine, was Zofia.  Both vowed to help the couple ensure their marriage was a happy one, even if neither of them sounded too pleased about it.

"Lima and Lipica, you are now man and wife. You may now kiss," the sage said, concluding the ceremony.

The king leaned over and clamped down on her lips with his, while she willed herself to not pull away. His hand snaked itself behind her back, forcing her even further into his grasp. He attempted to slip his tongue into her mouth, but she never yielded. After what felt like forerver he pulled away, glaring in disapproval. She hoped she matched his stare in intensity, even if she felt fear in his presence.

The band started another song, signalling the end of the service. Lima grasped Liprica's hand with is own before walking down the aisle. His grip crushed her hand, yet she somehow smiled despite the pain. 

When they reached the exit, the king leaned into her. She could feel the heat radiating off his face, and the way the hairs on her neck pricked up.

"You're mine now," he whispered. She could almost feel the smirk pressed against her cheek as he  effectively  dragged her out of the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to let the bride choose and try on the dress before the big day, kids.  
> I'm sorry I haven't posted in a month, turns out I find royal weddings hard to write. Next chapter shall be the reception.


	6. Reception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that they are married, Lima decided to show of his new wife to commoner and noble alike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for non-consensual sex at the end of the chapter. I've tried to be discreet, but I'll err on the side of caution. This will be the only sexual bit in this fic, which will be fade-to-black.

The king didn't let go of her, not even during the brief moment they were waiting for someone to Warp them. His hands were cold enough to sap what warmth she had.

The woman, when she arrived, was quick to cast her spell. She was so quick that Liprica couldn't distinguish her features before she disappeared. The familiar blue light of the spell flooded her vision and she felt weightless once again.

When she felt solid ground at her feet, she noticed she was on top of the largest balcony of the castle. Stone columns decorated the front, creating a barrier between them and certain death. Connecting them was a stone slab of the same white color, which matched the bricks used to build the castle. She wanted to push it to see if it was sturdier than it looked, but she couldn't while he watching her every move.

The sound a cheering crowd drew her attention away from the stonework. Some people from the nearby towns had come to see the happy couple. How long they had been there was a mystery to her.

The king rewarded their patience by kissing her on the lips. A distant crescendo of celebration doing little to ease the disgust inside her. It wasn't the kiss itself, it was more chaste compared to the first, but it was how long it lasted. Most couples she knew didn't drag it out like this, even if they wanted to impress someone. Unfortunately for her, this display of affection pleased the masses.

It surprised her that the people of Zofia approved of such a union. Their king was flouting the fact that Mila's rules didn't apply to him, yet they didn't seem to care. Who were they to question the Goddess?

She wondered if they would be as enthusiastic if they knew how delusional she was.

When he finally disengaged, the king ordered a guard to find a maid. He didn't bother to face his audience, instead focusing on his personal guard in the room behind them. The other man nodded before descending a flight of stairs at the back.

Liprica took that as an opportunity to look at the people gathered beneath the castle. The crowd was smaller than she expected, though their enthusiasm made up for their lack of number.

She could feel the king's hand squeeze hers, telling her there time at the balcony was over. Liprica made a mental note to ask someone to show her how to get there.

"I think we have appeased the peasants enough. I'm ready to celebrate," Lima said before the light surrounded them once again.

When she came to her senses, she was at the doors of what she assumed was a ballroom. Two soldiers were posted on each side, preventing unapproved characters from entering. The king was quick to dismiss the maid who had used Rescue on them. Next, he motioned for the guards to open the door, giving the couple access to the room.

There were fewer people, but it was still quite busy. Everyone in the room was a nobleman of some sort, judging by the way they kept their body stiff. They were all wearing attire that was some shade of blue or green, keeping in line with the colour scheme of the day. Liprica guessed that the cost of one dress was more than a farmer would earn in a year; the fabric and stitching showed off the status of its owner.

She could see no children, the youngest person in the room had to be Zofia. She was sitting at the table at the back of the room, along with some people she hadn't met before.

She walked to the table alongside Lima, who still kept a hold on her. It wasn't until both of them sat down that he let go so he could turn his attention to Desaix.

Servants walked up to their table with plates in their hands. Lima was served first, then a place was placed in front of Liprica. In front of her was a fish served with some seeded bread. A small bowl filled with salad was next to the plate, which she decided to eat first.

She had lifted her fork up when a glass was shoved in front of her face. It was filled to the brim with a burgundy liquid that she assumed was wine. Some had already spilled onto the tablecloth. She looked up from her plate to see the wolfish grin on Desaix's face.

"Would you like some wine, your Majesty?" he asked, knowing she wouldn't refuse in front of her husband. "This wine came all the way from Ram village, it would be a shame to waste it."

She accepted the glass, pausing to sniff its contents. It was fruity, with a hint of something she couldn't identify. She tilted it upwards, only taking a sip of its contents. Thankfully the drink tasted as good enough to mask the bitter taste of alcohol.

"This is delicious, Lord Desaix," she said, setting the glass on the table. She returned her attention to her meal, ignoring the beverage.

With no more distractions, she picked up her cutlery and started to cut open the fish in front of her. She made sure to savour every bite. The fish itself was lightly seasoned, she noticed as she ate a morsel off her fork. Whoever had prepared the meal knew how to bring out the flavours; the salt and pepper enhanced the savoury and smoky flavours.

There must have been more salt than the realised, for her throat was parched when she finished her meal. The pitchers on the table were all filled with wine or some other alcoholic drink. She turned to ask the king for something different.

"Can you get one of the servants fetch me some water?" she asked.

"Water?" Lima exclaimed while stifling a laugh. "Why would you want something peasants drink? If you're thirsty have some more of that wine, you've barely touched it."

She looked at the still-full glass. Even Zofia, who was so straight-faced and serious, was feeling the effect of the drink. She was laughing with a dark-haired woman who had come to the table.

Her thirst won in the end. Liprica downed the rest of the glass, gaining temporary relief from the dryness in her throat. Other than that, she didn't feel any different. As soon as she put the glass down, a servant was there to refill it with more of the sweet liquid. It was strange, but she dismissed it as a quirk of the upper class.

Her attention was drawn to a presence behind her. It was Zofia, who had brough with her the same woman she was with earlier. Both were in high spirits, the cause of which in the glasses they both held.

"I don't think I've introduced you," Zofia said. "Liprica, this is Cornelia. She is Lima's other wife."

Liprica should have known who she was, but the king had so many wives that she stopped keeping track. Cornelia's facial features were sharper than any Zofian's.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Liprica," said Cornelia.

If she was the king's wife, she didn't seem that heartbroken about sharing him. The woman, Cornelia, slouched on the back of Liprica's chair without a care in the world.

"Shall we go somewhere else? We can talk about things not meant for men."

Lipica was happy to have any reason to gain reprieve from her new husband, so she accepted the invitation. The two women waited for her to get up off the chair before going to one side of the room. Cornelia summoned a servant to refill her glass before he did the same for Zofia's.

"Would you like some more?" she asked Liprica.

"I think I've drunk enough for now," she answered. The servant took her refusal as his cue to leave.

"Trust me, you'll have to drink some more if you have to see him naked," Conelia said as she glanced toward the table they came from. Both of them seemed to agree that their husband wasn't easy on the eyes.

"Is it really that bad?" Liprica asked. She didn't need to ask, for the man they were looking at was downing another glass of wine.

Cornelia nodded. "It's like sleeping with a skeleton. There was only one good thing to come from that man and that was my son."

Zofia cringed at that comment. Liprica could see that she had inherited her father's cheekbones, but the rest of her looked _alive_. Her eyes weren't as hollow and her hair was thicker, both of which had to come from her mother's side.

If Cornelia was aware of how uncomfortable her company was, she didn't seem to care.

"He so much prettier than his brothers and sisters," she boasted.

"Of course you'd say that," Zofia snapped. "He's your son!"

"And I'm saying what everyone's thinking," Cornelia retorted. "At least he looks nothing like his dad."

Zofia had opened her mouth to express how offended she was, but Liprica had already tuned her out. Instead she drank from her glass as the two squabbled, not saying a word. At least Zofia had the excuse of being young, Cornelia's childish behavior was painful to watch. Being the oldest of the three of them, she had expected her to be the mature one.

Liprica had enough. Her day was bad enough without having to listen to a petty argument.

"Well, I don't know him" Liprica said, interrupting whatever Zofia was saying. "But I don't think he would like being compared to his siblings."

Both women, stunned at her response, nodded in agreement. The three of them stood in silence, which felt out of place among the friendly chatter around them.

"It was nice to talking to both of you but I have to go back,"she lied. "My husband doesn't want me gone for too long."

Zofia and Cornelia said their goodbyes before Liprica walked back to the main table. She made the occasional misstep, which her dress thankfully concealed. The argument had lasted long enough for her to drain her glass and feel the effects.

When she reached her table, she all but collapsed on her chair.

"There she is!" Lima cried out as he hugged her. This sudden show of affection had to be the alcohol influencing him. With his wife ensnared, he leaned in to kiss her again. It didn't take long for it to devolve into snogging. Liprica could feel his tongue jostling hers around. The sensation was awkward for the bride, so she let him do his thing until he disengaged. Her lips tingled from where he sucked on them. She traced her finger around her mouth to see if it was swollen, breathing a sigh of relief when she realised it wasn't as bad as she expected.

The king was already laughing with the other men on their table, leaving her on her own. A servant came to give her some dessert, which was a slice of cake with jam in the middle, and refill her glass with wine. She kept herself occupied by eating what was in front of her until even the crumbs were gone.

With no cake left, she turned her attention to the people dotted around the room. There was several couples drinking and chatting, but one pair stood out to her. But it wasn't their attire that attracted her attention, it was the way they were so happy in each other's arms. They were so in love they never noticed that she was watching.

She hated how jealous she was of them.

With no one to talk to, she drowned her bitterness with the sweet wine in front of her. The more she drank, the better she felt until she forgot what she was so upset about. She never noticed that the glass was never empty.

She carried on drinking until she felt a hand on her thigh. It was over her dress, but she could definitely feel the bony fingers through the fabric. It was sliding upwards before resting at the top, somewhere it shouldn't be in public. She looked up to see Lima leering at her, before he turned to Desaix for approval.

Her mood changed from shock to anger. How dare he. He knew where she came from and yet he was treating her like some common wench.

"Get your hands off me," she hissed as she slapped his hand.

Her husband recoiled in mock fear.

"She's so cute when she's mad," Lima said, laughing at his wife's distress. She wasn't the only one embarrassed by the king's antics, Desaix looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him.

"I am not cute," Liprica grumbled before downing the already refilled glass.

She immediately regretted it, for it was one glass too many. Her world was swaying in and out of focus, only allowing her to focus on one thing at a time. She could see a table leg, then a plate, then a red-headed man before coming to a stop when she saw Cornelia. Her eyes, framed with blue eye shadow, were narrowed in frustration. She never got to find out why, because her attention was drawn to two voices next to her.

For a while she stared at nothing. The voices stopped before she felt pressure under her arms. It felt uncomfortable, so she slipped out of their grip.

"I can get up," she slurred to her companions. Her hands shook as she grabbed the armrests and hoisted herself up.

She lost her grip and almost fell out the chair. The men took this as their opportunity to grab her under the arms and lead her out of the room. She could hear them muttering their apologies as they pretty much dragged her out the room. Liprica couldn't focus at all. She felt the familiar weightless sensation of being warped as she was leaning on one of the men for support. When they felt solid ground, she slumped further into them.

* * *

 

_**Content warning for non-consensual touching and implied non-consensual sex. Don't read the rest of this chapter if you don't want to see this.** _

 

* * *

 

The man not holding her was groping her breasts before moving on to her waist. A loud cough from the other man stopped the hands from travelling further south.

"Your Majesty, shouldn't you wait until she's got her clothes off?" said a voice she recognised as Desaix's.

The king huffed, his breath ghosting her face. He took the opportunity to remove the circlet, putting it somewhere she couldn't see. Next were the shoes, which he slipped off her feet. Liprica already felt naked without her accessories on.

"Don't just stand there, help me take her dress off," Lima said. She could feel Desaix making quick work of the lace at the back, while Lima tried to pull the garment down.

Lima was rushing so much he ignored the sound of the dress ripping. If Desaix noticed he didn't care, for he had moved on to removing her undergarments.

She could feel the fabric fall off her body as it was exposed to the room. She shivered instinctively as the men admired her as if she was a statue.

She didn't stand for long. Desaix picked her up and placed her on a bed. She could feel another pair of hands, Lima's, grab her thighs to spread her legs apart.

She wanted to move, to resist, but her body wouldn't let her. Her body wanted to sleep.

"Thank you for your help," Lima said. Silence followed, which increased the tension the longer it lasted. The king wanted the other man to leave, yet he didn't.

"You know I have to stay?" Desaix said. "I need to be a witness."

"Hide in the closet if it makes you feel uncomfortable. You can come out when we're done."

Liprica tried to hear the rest of the argument, but she could feel herself nodding off. When she came to, she was alone with her husband.

He climbed on top of her body, making sure to touch as much of her as possible. She could feel every bump of his ribcage rub against her skin as she rubbed himself against her. Despite this she was fighting a losing battle against her body's desire to rest.

At last, he was face to face with her. All the wine he drank hadn't added a drop of color to his cheeks, and she dared not look any further south. He tiled his head downward, coming to rest by her left ear. She could hear him breath in before sleep took over her.

She never found out what he said to her that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been forever, but basically assignments took over my life and I had writer's block. I'll be editing the first chapter before I start the next.
> 
> I tried to flesh out Desaix a bit more. Playing the game, I wondered what Lima did that made him think he would be a better leader. There's also Cornelia, an OC who is the only other living wife of Lima and mother of Conrad.

**Author's Note:**

> I've just finished playing Fire Emblem Echoes and I wanted to write about about Liprica, Lima, Irma and some other characters I wanted to expand on. I don't know how frequently I'll update, but I'll post it when I can. Tags and characters will be updated, but I'll give an advance warning for non con and character death later on, hence the rating.


End file.
